


Even Lambs Roar

by shetlandowl



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Steve Rogers, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, Like to the max. I kinda wanna hug poor Steeb, M/M, Objectification, Omega Tony Stark, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-02-18 01:56:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13089999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shetlandowl/pseuds/shetlandowl
Summary: Tony and Clint are part of the creative team that make The Tonight Show an exciting, laugh-out-loud part of late-night entertainment. Usually, the guests that come on the show are fun, engaging, and talkative omegas who know the ins and outs of show business, and aren't afraid to play along for the audience at home. They need a little more time and a lot more prep when alphas come on the show.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was digging through my pile of "Untitled document"s on Google docs looking for something else when I found this, and I kinda adore it again. I hope you enjoy this little snippet, too! (Also, I wish someone would make this kind of Robin Hood movie...) 
> 
> Not entirely sure where this will go, but feedback has a way of getting the thought-bubbles going, so I leave it in your hands.

“Do you think alphas hate coming on the show as much as we hate having them?” Clint wondered as he got settled in his own little nest of pillows against the couch, and a family pack of cheese puffs. Pepper snickered at the question and shoved at his shoulder with a socked foot. 

“They get a two-thousand dollar gift basket,” Tony pointed out from his own belly sprawl on the floor, only a little distracted by his task of queuing up the first movie of the night. “All we get is a paycheck.”

“But the muscles,” Pepper said in her more typical devil’s advocate role. “Aren’t they at least… beautiful peacocks?”

“Good word choice,” Clint replied with a smirk, “not all that beautiful though. Mostly they’re just… bulky.” Helpful as he was, Clint tapped at the side of his own head in case she wasn’t following his meaning. 

“They’re not all dense,” Tony said in a tone that didn’t quite convey confidence. “And four times a year, they come in handy.”

“For omegas, sure,” Clint conceded. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: it’s good to be beta.”

Pepper chimed in with an amen! Then, to Clint’s chagrin, stole a handful of Clint’s cheese puffs. The movie had started up, and on the floor, Tony was rolling around in his onsie pyjamas trying to get comfortable with the pillows and his family pack of sour patch kids. 

“So am I helping you two prepare questions for the show, or can I just enjoy the movie?” Pepper asked quietly as the first scenes of Sherwood Forest came into view. 

Tony grunted and waved his hand non-committally. “If you can think of interesting questions to ask Rogers and Barnes, by all means,” he mumbled around a mouthful of gummy candy. “Preferably not about their sex lives, the diet and workout routines to get ready for these roles, or how they’re managing as alphas in an omega industry.”

“Too bad,” Pepper sighed as the opening credits panned out and started the story with a view of Barnes emerging topless out of the river. “When they look like that, their sex life is all I can think about.”

Clint grinned around his mouthful and Tony snickered quietly from his sprawl on the floor. “Check out those nipples though,” Clint commented with a quiet wince, “it must be so cold. Where did they film this?”

“Uh, Vancouver in January, I think?” Tony guessed, and he reached for his phone to check even though it probably wasn’t important. 

“This is the Robin Hood story without Robin Hood, right?” Pepper asked while Tony was clearly in the business of fact-checking. “Where the villagers stand up and create this fake myth to rally around?”

Clint hummed in agreement. “Yeah, I liked it—I almost can’t believe an alpha directed it.”

“A woman! A woman alpha,” Pepper corrected, “Patty Jenkins has been incredible so far.”

“Speaking of alphas who came on the show,” Tony chimed in, “she was great last time. She had great chemistry with Jimmy on air.”

“Yeah... I doubt either of these guys will be like her,” Clint muttered, but as the scene cut away, he perked up. “Oh! Here we go, messenger boy Rogers. Tasha loves this guy.”

“Damn, that back,” Pepper sighed dreamily. 

“That ass,” Tony agreed, biting his lip to muffle a moan. 

“Tasha said if you pause it just right, you can see an outline of his dick—” the film was paused before he even finished his sentence, and he couldn’t help but laugh at Tony’s shamelessness. “It’s right after he jumps off the horse.”

“You think the saddle did it for him?” Pepper whispered, but the three of them were all quiet as Tony let the movie play on at half-speed. 

“Damn,” Tony growled under his breath when he caught sight of the firm and unmistakable outline of Steve’s knot in those britches. 

“I’m not an omega,” Pepper agreed, “but I want it.”

“I don’t swing that way and I get it,” Clint said with a shake of his head. “I wonder how many omega producers and casting directors got to ride that bad boy for him to get this part.”

“Oh, come on! Watch the movie first,” Pepper said in Rogers’ defense. “I’m sure he has talent.”

“There’s only two reasons to hire an alpha for a movie,” replied Clint, holding up two cheese-dusted fingers to count, “they look good, or they fucked the right omegas.”

“Why do you think all the female alphas are directors? Except Charlize Theron,” Tony conceded. “She’s a badass.”

“I don’t like her,” Clint grimaced at the thought. “She rubs me the wrong way. She always seems so desperate for a mate.”

“But if she was an omega doing the same thing, you’d find it charming!” Pepper complained. “You can’t assume all alphas are looking for a mate and all omegas are looking for a quick fuck.”

“That’s not half-wrong,” Tony said innocently enough. “As the only omega present, I—ow! Pepper!”

“Pepper, you’re missing the first love scene,” Clint stage-whispered before Pepper could really get into smothering the nonchalant self-bullying out of the omega. She paused and looked up at once. 

“Jesus,” she moaned quietly and sat back to hug the pillow to her chest instead. “That body.”

“You should send his parents the gift basket,” Tony murmured, unable to take his eyes off the screen. “I’m a huge fan of their work.”

Pepper hummed her agreement from the couch. “Write some questions that humanize the alpha actors, and I’ll see what I can do.”


	2. Intermission; Introductions

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Bucky stomped out like a bull, marching directly to their suite. Steve followed him in seconds later, with a far gentler treatment of the door handle. 

“Bucky, I know you’re upset—” 

“I swear on Heaven, Hell, and everything in-between, if you say one word to defend those perverted—”

“I’m not defending them!” Steve shouted over him, then quickly stopped himself before he inadvertently made the situation worse. 

“Did you not hear them? They treat us like we’re less than human!” Bucky shouted back, gesturing in the general direction of the ballroom with a fist that hadn’t unclenched for the past hour and a half. “ _Do your natural attributes make it easier, or more difficult for you to get roles? The LGBT community is already hyped about the film, was that the audience you wanted to attract? How did you audition for this role?_ ”

“Buck, I don’t think—”

“ _Was it difficult to concentrate with an omega cast and crew? You had so many different outfits, how did the costume department handle it?_ ”

“This isn’t a healthy—”

“—ONE more person,” Bucky hissed venomously, “if _one more person_ talks about my goddamn dick, I’m going to start throwing punches. It’s not alien technology: it’s a dick! It’s just a fucking _dick._ ”

“How many alpha men do you think those people have met? Outside of heat,” Steve added for clarity. 

“We’re not that small of a minority,” Bucky groused, because at this level of anger, one reasonable statement wasn’t enough to sway him. “Fucking Christ. I could have been an engineer.”

“There’s only two weeks left of the promotional tour,” Steve said as the voice of reason, and he took a few steps closer once the tension eased between them. “Remember what Coulson said: there’s maybe twenty of us working in the industry; people are curious about the differences.”

Bucky stared at him like Steve had grown a fourth head. “How are you this calm? There is a drinking game out there _about your cock._ ‘Spot the knot, take a shot.’ The movie isn’t even out yet!”

“What do you want me to do!” Steve snapped with a sudden bite. “Break tables? Punch everyone who pisses me off? Give them the satisfaction of being the violent, mindless alpha they expect me to be?”

“Oh, well. That makes sense. Thank you, master strategist, I’ll just follow your advice from now on,” Bucky said with sarcastic gratitude. “The next time they ask me about how the costume department handled _it_ —or ‘the problem,’ or ‘my assets,’ or ‘my struggle’—I'll be a most helpful alpha. That’ll make this all more tolerable. I’ll tell them how the costume designer decided to sew an elastic band around the legs of our costumes _just in case_ ‘a situation happens.’ I mean, if the knot sets in, that’s almost nine inches, and who wants to deal with that girth in post? Forget the fact that a knot can’t fully set without sex.” 

Steve did his best to calm down with his usual practice of closing his eyes, exhaling slowly, and counting backwards from ten, but the whole exercise proved pointless. Nothing helped anymore. In the end, he scrubbed a hand over his face and slumped into the nearest couch in defeat.

“I’ll be an open book if they ask how, cause that costume department deserves all the credit: they were _very thorough_ about getting their measurements. Truly the most polite, rationalized, contractual approach to sexual harassment yet.”

“Be grateful you don’t get the Irish question,” Steve muttered, unable to even look Bucky in the eyes when he said it.

The indignant rage bled out of Bucky like air out of a punctured balloon, and he grimaced in sympathy. “I almost walked out when she asked that; I don’t know how you managed it with a straight face.”

“Coulson got on her pretty fast,” Steve explained in a tired voice. “Fuck it. I need a drink. You?”

“Thought you’d never ask.” 

*** 

Early in their friendship, Tony and Natasha had learned that their cycles were naturally staggered. Very soon after that, they made a pact: when the inevitable happened, they would hit the bars together. Picking up one night stands during heat wasn’t always safe, and having a buddy ready to intervene if the interested alpha(s) became too aggressive made life easier for both of them. 

This was the fourth day of Natasha’s winter heat, so it was again Tony’s turn to watch the fantastic show of drooling, fortune-seeking alphas plying Natasha with promises and drinks in an effort to taste an omega in heat who was as stunning as her. 

The obvious chaff had already abandoned hope, and Tony was trying not to be jealous of the small but impressive crowd of alphas hanging on her every word.

> **YOU SENT @ 20:42 >**  
>  Be a friend and tell me i’m hot

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:42 >**  
>  Your’e hot as fuck ddue

Tony frowned down at the phone, polished off his scotch, then ordered another one before responding.

> **YOU SENT @ 20:43 >**  
>  Not convinced

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:44 >**  
>  Wasn’t your first knot Nigel Owens?

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:44 >**  
>  You ran off to Bora Bora with Ian Thorpe after Ellen

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:44 >**  
>  How many months with Valerio Pino?

> **YOU SENT @ 20:44 >**  
>  16 on and off

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:45 >**  
>  NYE 2011 Orlando Jones

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:46 >**  
>  Not actually asking man

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:47 >**  
>  Feel better?

> **YOU SENT @ 20:47 >**  
>  Yeah thanks. N owes you a drink 

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:48 >**  
>  Just keep watching her back we’re even

“Hi? Excuse me?” 

Tony glanced away from Natasha and her four remaining suitors as a hand touched his shoulder. “Hands o—oh,” he stuttered softly, staring up at the strong jaw, the confident blue eyes, and the full, broad shoulders of a tall, modern-day Adonis in a leather jacket. 

“Are these seats taken?” the man asked Tony, gesturing to the stools to Tony’s left; the one farthest away was empty, but Tony had draped his peacoat and scarf over the one next to him for privacy. He scooped them both up at once to free up the seat. 

“Now they are,” he smiled back, and really, he wanted to say something else to keep that conversation going, but he had already taken his eyes off Natasha for too long. Reluctantly, he turned back to watch Natasha, her drink, and her purse lest someone tried to mess with any of the three. 

Without looking away from her, he started typing to Clint again.

> **YOU SENT @ 20:53 >**  
>  STEVE ROGERS IS HERE.

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:54 >**  
>  Oh great ask him what he wants to do on the show next week

> **YOU SENT @ 20:54 >**  
>  I’M SERIOUS

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:55 >**  
>  Sorry i gotta get back to my date w/ taylor swift can’t talk right now

> **YOU SENT @ 20:56 >**  
>  OMFG

> **YOU SENT @ 20:56 >**  
>  BARNES. I HEAR HIM

> **YOU SENT @ 20:56 >**  
>  Clint they’re both here

> **RECEIVED FROM KATNISS @ 20:59 >**  
>  Pics or it didn’t happen

Tony looked up from the screen and squinted at Natasha with a sudden intensity, willing her to read his mind and look his way, but evidently, telepathy didn’t work that way. 

Plan B: time to take a selfie. He shuffled on his stool in a sad attempt to seem casual, but he couldn’t get a decent angle without being painfully obvious. 

Plan C: make it look like he was taking candid pictures of his beautiful and popular omega friend. 

“Fuck’s sake. Is he taking pictures of us?”

Chills shattered down Tony’s back at the sound of Barnes’s growl. But he was nothing of not a consummate professional; a cool, brave man who knew precisely what to do under pressure: play dumb. 

“Hey, sir,” one of the actors whom Tony was trying to covertly photograph said, leaning closer so that there was no question he was addressing Tony. “Are you taking a picture of us?”

Tony turned to give Steve Rogers a confused look over his shoulder. “Excuse you?” 

“Are you taking pictures of us?” Bucky asked more aggressively, and Tony couldn’t help but flinch back. 

“Damn, what’s your damage?" Tony said before he could think to filter himself. Bucky’s glare only became more suspicious, but between them, Steve Rogers’ golden head bowed down to hide a grin behind his drink. 

“Not that it’s your business, but I’m taking a picture of my friend,” Tony lied without so much as blinking. “Or was that your nasty ass way of asking me to take a picture of the happy couple?” 

“We’re just friends,” Steve said while Bucky grumbled an impressive string of uncouth words. Not that Tony cared about anything outside of Steve’s admission. ‘Just friends’ didn’t mean single or interested, but it was better than nothing.

“His loss,” Tony told Steve with a grin before turning back to watch Natasha, and started to count. He got all the way to eight before he heard Steve address him again. 

“Hey,” Steve said with a smile in his voice, and Tony couldn’t help but turn to face him. He wanted to see that smile in person. “May I buy you your next drink?” 

“I won’t say no to that,” Tony admitted, and he found himself unable to resist smiling back. 

Eventually Steve managed to look away and bring the bartender around to get them both more drinks. Tony capitalized on those precious moments to shamelessly take in the handsome profile, the strong jaw and chin, the cheekbones, and the blue eyes he could get lost in given half a chance. 

Any other week but this. 

“Listen,” he pursed his lips wryly, glanced back quickly at Natasha to be sure she was still alright before turning to find Steve Rogers attention focused on him. “Right, so you’re gorgeous and I think I could watch you try not to laugh in your friend’s face for hours, but I kinda have my own friend counting on me right now. I don’t know if you’re in town next week or what this is, but here’s my number,” he said and slid his business card across the bar top. “My cell is on the back. If you want to grab a coffee, or whatever. Text me.”

“Tony,” Steve read off the card, trying his name before pocketing the card. “Thank you for being the first reason for me to laugh in my friend’s face today.”

“My pleasure,” Tony replied with a surprised smile, drawing his response out expectantly until Steve caught on to his meaning. 

“Steve,” he said. “Steve Rogers.”

***

“You’re telling me Steve Rogers was less than four yards from Natasha and she went home with an investment banker?” 

Pepper was sitting on the tiny space between the sink and the wall of the bathroom counter, drilling Tony about the exciting night she missed out on while he brushed his teeth. 

“Mmhm,” he replied in the affirmative, pausing his brushing briefly to add, “he her fave?” 

“He’s up there, if he isn’t,” Pepper said quietly. Tony finished brushing his teeth, spit, and rinsed while she pondered his question. 

“Not sure that he would’ve been interested in taking her home anyway, if she knew he was there,” Tony admitted then, gathering some lukewarm water in his hands to wet his face. “He and Barnes did not look like they’d had an easy day.” 

“I believe it, if the headlines are anything to go by,” Pepper noted. She squeezed some of his cleanser into his hand when he held his hand out expectantly, and as he lathered up his face, she continued. “Every magazine I’ve caught so far seems to believe they slept their way into the movie. Entertainment Weekly called them the best ‘impulse casting’ of the year, even though in the interview, Barnes said he had several auditions. And Steve came on pretty late, with Killian going back to rehab.”

“I heard same,” Tony said after a beat, frowning a little at his soaped-up reflection. 

“You know someone even asked Steve if the rumors that he has a Celtic knot are true? I mean, talk about invasion of privacy.”

“So hot,” Tony commented through a close-lipped smirk before leaning over the sink to rinse his face. 

“Don’t you remember that idiot who asked Jamie Chung if she was a pure omega two years ago?” 

Tony gave her a look over the towel he was dabbing his face dry on. “I see your point, but she’s not even Thai; that was double shitty. And the connotation—”

“Is much, much worse,” Pepper agreed without missing a beat, “but no actor wants to be reminded that he could make bank in porn when the odds are stacked against him in film.”

“I presented my ideas yesterday,” Tony told her as he started to rub night time serum into his skin, but she looked so annoyed by what he was doing that he froze to check in immediately. “What? What happened, what’s wrong?”

“You’re so aggressive with your skin,” she complained, then reached for his serum and dabbed some on her own fingers. With a slow, gentle touch, she started to massage it into his skin. “Light and loving… pretending you want it to stick around for a while,” she told him while she worked. 

Tony hummed in thanks and just rubbed what he had on his own fingers over the back of his hands. “Well, they seemed to like it,” he continued quietly, doing his best not to disrupt her work. “We haven’t played Would You Rather for a while; that’d connect with the audience. Nat said Confessions.”

“That’s fun, too,” Pepper agreed, but a moment later added, “could get aggressive though.”

Tony opened his mouth to agree, but when Pepper reached for the moisturizer he shut his mouth to let it happen. 

“You’ve got great skin, Tony,” Pepper eventually said as she leaned back and screwed the top back on Tony’s pot of moisturizer. “Don’t treat it like a chalkboard.” 

“Or is it great because I’ve been treating it like a chalkboard all these years?” Tony countered in a typical devil’s advocate, and got a smack on his chin for his trouble.


	3. Chapter 3

Tony was finishing his third cup of coffee and nearly finished with the monologue material he wanted to submit by the morning deadline when his phone chirped with a new incoming message.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:16 >**  
>  What are you doing up so early

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:16 >**  
>  Were you thinking about me?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:16 >**  
>  This is inhumane

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:17 >**  
>  You message me at 6am and now you won’t respond?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:17 >**  
>  Its too early for self-sustained wakes

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:17 >**  
>  Wakeful

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:18 >**  
>  Wakefulness

> **YOU SENT @ 07:18 >**  
>  Do you even need me for this conversation, dear?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:18 >**  
>  Talk or ill sleep forever

> **YOU SENT @ 07:18 >**  
>  Are you cursing me? I feel like you’re putting a spell on me here that’s inappropriate before a first date

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:19 >**  
>  Ugh I don’t want writer tony I wnt nice tony

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:19 >**  
>  Tony that talked me to sleep las t night tony

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:19 >**  
>  Tony that likes tulips but hasn’t been to holland yet

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:19 >**  
>  Tony that fainted at the last adele concert

> **YOU SENT @ 07:20 >**  
>  Unfair. I’ve got a deadline in 40 min. You talk.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:22 >**  
>  I’ve got an interview today w/ Colbert. -.-’

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:23 >**  
>  He’s so cool

> **YOU SENT @ 07:25 >**  
>  Hey you’ll rock it. Colbert won’t let you fail

> **YOU SENT @ 07:25 >**  
>  Promise. Plus I know those guys, his team is great. You’ve got choice of scripts

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:26 >**  
>  It’s been gtetig better. They’re running out of personal qs anyway

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:26 >**  
>  Nobodys asked about tattoos yet I was kinda ready for that one

> **YOU SENT @ 07:28 >**  
>  ………….

> **YOU SENT @ 07:28 >**  
>  YOU HAVE MY ATTENTION

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:29 >**  
>  HA NO. you’ll have to find them the old fashioned way

> **YOU SENT @ 07:29 >**  
>  Don’t make me tell Fallon about your interest in sharing your tattoos

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:31 >**  
>  God fine okay

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:32 >**  
>  One on my ribs with dad’s birthday

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:32 >**  
>  One behind my ear

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:33 >**  
>  One in white on my lower back that says GET SOME

> **YOU SENT @ 07:34 >**  
>  You think you’re so funny

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:35 >**  
>  Hand to god got it on a dare

> **YOU SENT @ 07:35 >**  
>  No fucking way

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:36 >**  
>  It took about 90 minutes

> **YOU SENT @ 07:41 >**  
>  First date I’ll be washing your filthy lying mouth out with soap

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 07:43 >**  
>  If that’s what you want in my mouth fine but I’m not kidding

A knock on the door distracted Tony from thoughts of what all he wanted to do to Steve’s person on their as-of-yet-unplanned first date, and he looked up with the ferocity of an irritated hummingbird. 

Wanda quirked a tired smiled at him and offered him one of her two coffee cups. “Tony, got a minute?” 

“Uh—sure, yeah,” he mumbled, resigning himself to actually working for a living. He picked his laptop case off the chair, invited her to sit, then held his hand out for her hard copies and coffee. “Give it here.”

***

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 16:44 >**  
>  No wonder you like him, he’s got a framed AND SIGNED poster for every Rings movie

> **YOU SENT @ 17:09 >**  
>  LORD of the Rings

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:23 >**  
>  Nerd alert

> **YOU SENT @ 17:25 >**  
>  You’re lucky you’re hot

> **YOU SENT @ 17:25 >**  
>  How’d it go?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:29 >**  
>  Okay, I think?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:29 >**  
>  He gaze me booze so

> **YOU SENT @ 17:32 >**  
>  He what?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:32 >**  
>  You’ll just have to tune in on Thursday, sweetheart

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:33 >**  
>  You got the tattoos out of me earlier, you can’t have both

> **YOU SENT @ 17:34 >**  
>  You’re losing points, Steve. So many important points

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:35 >**  
>  I’m unaware of points. Explain the points, Tony.

> **YOU SENT @ 17:37 >**  
>  You know the point system, Steve. The points of intimacy. Points of trust.

> **YOU SENT @ 17:37 >**  
>  The fewer you have, the less you get

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:40 >**  
>  Are we flirting or bartering?

> **YOU SENT @ 17:41 >**  
>  Yes.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:41 >**  
>  Fair enough

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:42 >**  
>  What’s the exchange rate?

> **YOU SENT @ 17:53 >**  
>  80 points = first date. You may buy me things

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 17:53 >**  
>  How gracious of you

> **YOU SENT @ 17:55 >**  
>  100 points = holding hands

> **YOU SENT @ 17:56 >**  
>  140 points = kiss, no tongue

> **YOU SENT @ 17:57 >**  
>  240 points = kiss, I won’t bite your tongue off

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:02 >**  
>  Hang on, wait. Why am I the only one who has to earn points? How’s that fair?

> **YOU SENT @ 18:05 >**  
>  Hm. No one’s ever asked that.

> **YOU SENT @ 18:06 >**  
>  If you’re not ready to kiss when I’m ready, I’ll wait.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:07 >**  
>  Really?

> **YOU SENT @ 18:07 >**  
>  I’ll be confused, but yeah. Might talk shit about you to my friends. Flirt with other guys.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:09 >**  
>  How many points do I currently have?

> **YOU SENT @ 18:10 >**  
>  95.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:10 >**  
>  Are you free this Sunday?

> **YOU SENT @ 18:11 >**  
>  I could be.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:13 >**  
>  Be. I’m cashing in my points. 

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:13 >**  
>  Meet me at 6th and 59th at 9am.

> **YOU SENT @ 18:14 >**  
>  Central Park at the crack of dawn on a Sunday? Are you going to kill me and dump my body in the bushes, Steven?

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:14 >**  
>  No! That’s a terrible way to get rid of a body.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:14 >**  
>  Thought we could walk to brunch.

> **YOU SENT @ 18:15 >**  
>  Walk. You want me to walk.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:16 >**  
>  There were no quotas for walking in your point system.

> **YOU SENT @ 18:17 >**  
>  What if I get a cramp? Nobody wants to brunch with a cramp

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:18 >**  
>  Then I’ll find a wheelbarrow and roll you there

> **YOU SENT @ 18:18 >**  
>  Ok I know that was you being sarcastic, but that actually sounds really fun

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:20 >**  
>  Alright, I’ll bite. How many points for literally carting you around?

> **YOU SENT @ 18:18 >**  
>  50 points

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:20 >**  
>  A flat rate? Hell no. Too low. 

> **YOU SENT @ 18:20 >**  
>  How far are we going…...

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:22 >**  
>  To Harlem 

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:22 >**  
>  It’s a surprise, so that’s all I’m telling you 

> **YOU SENT @ 18:23 >**  
>  To HARLEM??

> **YOU SENT @ 18:23 >**  
>  Steve. Steve I’m cramping just thinking about it

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:24 >**  
>  45 points/30 min. 

> **YOU SENT @ 18:24 >**  
>  40/60

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:24 >**  
>  50/30. 

> **YOU SENT @ 18:25 >**  
>  Who taught you haggling??

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:25 >**  
>  My mother. Price will keep going up. 

> **YOU SENT @ 18:25 >**  
>  Christ. Fine. 45/30.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:26 >**  
>  That offer expired. 50/30, or you can walk it, cramp or no cramp. 

> **YOU SENT @ 18:27 >**  
>  FINE. 50/30.

> **YOU SENT @ 18:27 >**  
>  You provide the wheelbarrow.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 18:27 >**  
>  You got yourself a deal

*** 

Tony was halfway to Narnia when he heard a knock on his bedroom door. Slowly, he backtracked out of his closet to see what Pepper wanted. 

“Help?” he asked her instead. 

Pepper quirked her head a little out of curiosity, but instead of walking farther into his room, she half-asked, “Sounds like we need take-out.”

“Yes! Low sodium, I don’t want to bloat,” Tony added quickly, “and no pizza: not so much cheese.”

“I’ll call in for sushi,” she promised, “what’s going on? You going out?”

“Sort of,” he hedged, then held up a blazer. “Is this too much?”

“Tony, pair that with your best black jeans, your red glasses, and you’ll pull anyone you want,” Pepper said with a big smile and, anticipating the game afoot, made herself comfortable on Tony’s bed. With half her mind on her phone to put in their order for delivery, she wondered, “Are we going out tonight? Should I be getting ready? I got these great heels yesterday—”

“I’m having brunch with the Meatball on Sunday,” Tony replied, trying to sound and look casual about it. Except the confidence in his voice wavered, and he couldn’t quite stand still. 

Pepper perked up in surprise at once. “You’re still talking to him?” she asked, somewhat rhetorically. “You haven’t had a first date in months! What are you going to wear?”

“Thanks, that—that helps, Pepper,” Tony mumbled, dumped his blazer over the foot of his bed, then dove right back into his closet. 

“Are you thinking jeans or sweats?” she called after him. She submitted their order then dropped her phone onto the stack of books that served as his bedside table; she frowned at the makeshift bedside table, as something about it reminded her of other necessities. She snatched the phone up again and started a grocery list. “Hey, we don’t have alpha-grade condoms in the bathroom, do you need some? I’ll be picking up the standard box anyway, since we're officially out.”

From the depths of his closet, Tony gasped and cried out, “You brought someone home without telling me? What kind of roommate are you?” He leaned out of the closet and held up an old vintage tee. “Captain America?”

“God, put that away,” Pepper complained. “It’s cold, Tony, why don’t you wear some colors and stand out? That denim top, white jeans, brown belt—”

“Because I’m not Canadian,” Tony told her before she got too excited about it, then ducked back into his closet. “And it’s not spring in the Hamptons! We’re having brunch in Harlem.”

“Leather jacket,” she started to say, but Tony made a plaintive sound. 

“If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll be wearing his leather jacket, and there’s no way we’ll be matching. What about this?” he said and held up a bright orange pair of jeans. 

“What—why, why do you even own that?” Pepper complained. “God, Tony, no. Put that away.”

“Pepper, first dates are for the crazies!” he insisted, “I gotta have fun with it, so he knows what he’s getting in to.”

“Tony, I’m pretty sure what he’s trying to get into and what you’re wearing are in complete counterbalance.”

“I don’t… I mean,” Tony said a little slower. “I don’t think he’s that kind of alpha.”

“Right,” Pepper drawled skeptically. “You found the only male alpha on the planet Earth that doesn’t need sex to breathe?”

“Maybe?” Tony said with a shrug of his shoulders. He glanced down at the black blazer draped over the foot of his bed, then said, “That, blue jeans, striped long-sleeves.”

She hummed in approval, but as always had to ask, “With what shoes?”

“Green sneakers,” he said after a beat. “We’re walking there from 6th and 59th.”

“You’re walking,” she echoed slowly in disbelief, “across _all of Central Park_ to brunch in Harlem?”

“Well... he said he’d bring a wheelbarrow, in case I get tired,” Tony said quickly and quietly under his breath, then hurried back into his closet. “What about dark jeans, tan Buck Mason sweater, blue parka?”

“Yes jeans, yes parka, no to anything tan—you’re not beige, Tony,” she replied matter of factly. “Do you still have that Nordic sweater?”

“The one you got me from Norway? Yeah, it’s...” Tony said mostly to himself, until he finally found it and held it up for her. “Yeah?”

“Do the distressed jeans from last year’s Armani sample sale with that, the parka, and a red scarf,” she decided, and for once, Tony didn’t find a fault in her plan. “And black sneakers. With the lifts.”

“Hell yeah, he’s a tall, red-blooded alpha,” he scoffed, tossing the wool sweater on his bed to go dig out his jeans. 

“I’m sure he’ll enjoy the surprise once he unwraps his present,” Pepper tried to say without a smirk in her voice, and she could practically hear Tony roll his eyes from inside the closet, where he was putting back the clothes they had decided against. “Hey, so what do we need? Condoms, alpha grade and normal; eggs; pesto; do you want to stick with crunchy peanut butter or creamy?”

“Creamy,” Tony called back. “Lube!”

“There’s plenty in the bathroom,” Pepper replied absently, trying to think of what else they needed. “Sourdough?”

A buzz of vibrations under Tony’s pillow distracted her from the grocery list, and she dug it out to see what message had come in while Tony was in the bowels of the walk in closet.

> **RECEIVED FROM MEATBALL @ 20:16 >**  
>  Bring out your dead!

“Make sure it’s sliced this time,” Tony complained as he finally came out of the closet and shut the door behind him. “You got any plans this weekend?”

“I’ll make some,” she promised with a big smile then held Tony’s phone out to him. “Sounds like your Meatball got that wheelbarrow.” 

Tony took the phone from her, then warmed with a private little smile at Steve’s words. He swept his thumb over the preview of his message and quickly typed back a response.

> **YOU SENT @ 20:16 >**  
>  I feel happy! I feel happy!

Pepper laughed up at him and smacked him in the head with one of his pillows. “Look at you! You better tell me _everything_ on Monday, you hear me?”

Her comment brought Tony back to the present. “You don’t need to clear out on Sunday, it’s just a first date.” 

“Oh, stop it, Tony. I’d rather you come back here. Part of our stupid rent is for the Pinkerton security; I’d rather you bring a guy home where you have reliable security to call if something goes south.”

“But it’s winter, Pepper, I don’t want to kick you out either,” Tony huffed, but the sound of the buzzer interrupted him. 

“Sushi,” Pepper said, and Tony popped out of the room to go get it. She followed him out a little calmer and went to gather some drinks and plates for them. 

The door opened and shut again a few minutes later, and Tony triumphantly heaved two bags of take out and asked, “Couch?”

“Couch!” she agreed on her way out from the kitchen with some plates, soy sauce, and two bottles of Mexican Coke on a platter. 

“So, who was the Last Condom guy?” Tony wondered as he tore into the boxes and started arranging them on the coffee table. She sat down with her legs crossed under the coffee table like him and broke apart her chopsticks to start pulling pieces of nigiri and elaborate rolls onto her plate. 

“I met up with a guy after work,” she said with a less than excited tone. “He was second-to-last condom guy. He was lousy; I needed the last condom to personally finish what he couldn’t.”

Tony grimaced in sympathy. “Bummer. Too quick?”

“Too… confused?” she settled on. “I’d trust a crab with air traffic control more than this guy in a bedroom.”

Tony choked on his nigiri, and Pepper had to beat him on the back until he could breathe again and turn back to his normal human color. “Oh, god—Pepper! What was his name?”

She hummed quietly around her glass bottle, and when she’d swallowed she said, “Ty something?”

“Point him out if we ever see him again,” Tony wheezed quietly, struggling to calm his laughter. “I hope the Meatball is better.”

“At least the Crab was a beta: he was in and out and asleep in ten minutes,” Pepper said by way of agreement. “Being knotted to a mediocre lay would be awkward as hell.”

Tony frowned wryly and shuddered at the thought. “Vader forbid.”

*** 

Sunday morning, Pepper pulled up to the Ritz Carlton and threw on the hazard lights. “Your phone is fully charged?” she asked. “And you’ll text me every twenty minutes? Or if something is uncomfortable?”

“I will,” he promised, even checking his phone to be sure it was charged. 

“When you get to the restaurant, you’ll text me the address. And, if it’s not a restaurant...” 

“I’ll call 911,” Tony said. “And you’re going to be hanging out with Natasha and Sharon?”

“Korean spa, baby,” Pepper purred with delight. “And I’ve got an extra mat in the trunk if the date is a dud and you’d rather be with us.”

“If his biceps and pecs aren’t as gorgeous as I remember, I’m calling you, pronto,” Tony said with a laugh, then with a quick kiss, said goodbye and hopped out of the car. He hadn’t even made it across the street before he spotted Steve’s towering frame and his wheelbarrow.

“Tony, hey!” Steve greeted him with a big smile as Tony approached. “What do you think?”

Tony laughed before he could filter his instinctive response. Steve had decked out the red wheelbarrow with golden fleece blankets and twinkling snowflake lights; on top of the folded blanket he’d left a king size Twix and a York Peppermint Pattie, like some extravagant facsimile of a chocolate on the hotel pillow. “Rogers, you’re such an idiot.”

“Yeah, well,” Steve stammered, then quickly cleared his throat. “Hopefully you’re in the business of dating idiots.” 

Tony busied himself with snatching up the candies off the blanket, and he pocketed the Peppermint Pattie to unwrapped the Twix first. “Depends on how much I enjoy taking a long walk in the cold, bitter New York winter with idiots,” he said before taking a bite. “How’s your week been?”

“I’ll tell you on the way,” Steve said with a little sigh, and when Tony started leading the way, he got the wheelbarrow into gear to keep up, and the conversation picked up effortlessly between them as they made their way along the deserted, winding paths of Central Park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Years, everybody!! Here's to a healthy, uplifting, and rewarding 2018!


	4. Chapter 4

“He didn’t even try anything,” Tony whispered emphatically and waved his cup of coffee around with enough force that Clint scooted his chair back for safety. “The most amazing date, great food—choral music, I’ve never had brunch with live choral music before. Then we walked back to the park and he carted me around the park for hours. I got to sit there in that blanket nest he’d prepared in the cart, while he ran up and down the hills with me—then when I got cold, he got us hot cocoa.”

“You’re making this up,” Clint decided, but most of the writers were listening to Tony’s recounting of his first date with hearts in their eyes.

“He’s not romantic enough to make that up,” Wanda pointed out just as Jimmy walked into the meeting room.

“Exciting weekend?” he asked the room at large, since he wasn’t yet sure whom they were talking about.

“Tony had the most amazing first date yesterday,” Wanda summarized, and before Tony could try to change the line of conversation, Clint added, “with Steve Rogers.”

Jimmy’s whole expression lit up with sudden, shameless glee. “Our guest tonight Steve Rogers, that Steve Rogers?”

Tony glared at Wanda and Clint in turn, then with a quiet sigh muttered, “Yeah. That Steve Rogers.”

“Well,” Jimmy said thoughtfully as he sank into his chair of choice. “Tony… how would you like to play True Confessions tonight?”

***

“Tony, listen to me.”

Tony didn’t look away from his laptop, and only distantly acknowledged Pepper’s presence. “I’m listening.”

“As soon as he’s done with the fans outside, Steve is going to be here. That’s any minute now,” she clarified, just in case he hadn’t understand the urgency. “Now, there is a chance he’ll ask for a tour of what goes on around here, so there’s a chance he’ll come by the writers’ offices. That means _here_ ,” she continued, because Tony was still pretending to be dense. “Tony, do you understand what I’m telling you?”

He sighed to himself, then finally turned in his chair to give her a flat look of disinterest. “We’ve been on one date, Pepper. I don’t think it’s worth all this fuss.”

“This is not fuss, Tony, it is a courtesy. Do you understand the difference? Do you want me to keep you out of his way, or may we take him through here?”

“I don’t understand—why are you asking me all of a sudden, you’ve never asked me before? I was fine when Tom Hardy was coming through. I could ride his face all day, but somehow that didn’t concern you at all. Do you think I can’t keep my hands off him? Am I really that weak to you?” Tony started on an aggressive, aimless rant like he so often did when he wanted to throw someone off track, but Pepper had witnessed it enough times to let him pull the wool over her eyes. She stepped forward at once and covered his mouth with both hands, then angled his head up so he’d have to look her in the eyes.

“Tony, you’re my best friend of six years, and my roommate. I know you,” she promised him, and when she was sure he’d be quiet and let her talk, she took her hands off his mouth to gently cup his face. “I know, it’s scary to go slow. I know this is new, and I know… time isn’t on your side right now.”

“He might not even notice the difference, Pepper,” Tony mumbled, but despite the claim, he burrowed a little further into her arms, hiding his face for just a few moments of peace. “We’ve only spent one day together.”

“An alpha who pays attention doesn’t need more than a day to know your scent,” she reminded him gently. “Your heat’s still two weeks away. If you care about him, you need to tell him what you expect of him.”

Clint leaned into Tony’s office to grab the door handle, and quickly said, “Rogers is coming,” as he pulled the door shut.

Tony sighed to himself and hugged Pepper closer still. She perched herself on his desk and pulled him closer, wrapping both arms around him to rub his back and offer some comfort while they hid from Steve.

“You think it’ll be okay?” Tony whispered, and if he didn’t manage to hide all the anxiety in his voice by whispering, it was okay. Pepper wouldn’t judge him for being nervous.

“Tonight?” she asked, just to be sure. “Tony, you’re witty, you’re clever, and you’ve got presence. You’ll be fine. And if anything happens, Jimmy’s there, he’s great. Most people will be staring at Steve, anyway. Besides,” she added with a sly little grin Tony didn’t even need to see to hear, “his chair is angled so the audience can ogle the best of him all they like. You could probably talk about chewing on feet and they wouldn’t hear you.”

“That’s… okay, that’s surprisingly unhelpful, Pepper, where’d you put my best fr—”

There was a quiet rap on the door before it swung inwards, and Wanda leaned into Tony’s little office to reveal Steve standing in the doorway. Whatever she had been in the middle of saying died on her lips, and Steve blinked owlishly at Pepper and Tony, tangled in each other’s arms with Tony’s face nestled safely against Pepper’s bosom.

“Move it along, nothing to see here,” Pepper told them, waving them all off. “Just some pre-screen jitters.”

Steve’s expression softened at once, but before he could turn his concern into a words, Wanda nodded and pulled the door shut. As they walked away, Pepper and Tony could make out snippets of a conversation explaining what would be happening later that day, and why Tony might have pre-screening jitters.

“I meant what I said, earlier,” he said after a long silence, keeping his voice down in a low whisper even now when they weren’t officially in hiding. “Can we send his mom a gift basket? Before… you know. Next heat.”

“Sure, Tony. What would you like me to have written on the card? ‘I’m a big fan of your work,’ signed Tony Stark?”

“‘You raised a considerate, thoughtful gentleman,’” he amended. “Signed, Staff and Crew of The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon.”

Pepper hummed quietly, clearly thinking about it more seriously than she had a minute ago. Eventually, she pressed a kiss to his temple and said, “Sure thing, Tony.”

***

Steve walked out to take his seat on stage to the thrilled applause and cat calls of the audience. He did his best to keep his smile up, to never look away from the audience while also never making direct eye-contact, and he probably waved and said something pleasant before the crowd was instructed to quiet down, though between the anxiety and the adrenaline, he had no memory of any words.

“Hey, Steve - welcome! It’s good to have you on the show. How’ve you been?”

He didn’t say the first thing that came to mind, or even the second thing. A nervous laugh bubbled out of him before he said, “That’s not at all a loaded question, Jimmy. Busy?”

Jimmy blushed at the realization and laughed, trying to backtrack. “Man, I’m sorry. Bucky was here last week, and that’s my fault: I almost feel like I know you without ever having met you. He had a lot of great stuff to say, and one thing he pointed out was how you bonded over how the scale of The Legend of Sherwood is different from both yours and his past experiences. It sounded like the press for it has been crazy. What’s that change been like?”

“The job has sort of reversed,” Steve tried to explain. “On smaller movies, you’re trying to just get the word out that this ‘movie exists, go see it!’ But with something like this, with so much attention and—I mean, it’s got seven premiers around the world. I don’t think I have seven suits.”

“The one you’re wearing looks nice,” Jimmy said with a smile, and Steve laughed in his surprise.

“Peggy—my publicist, she shoved this at me last week,” he managed to say eventually, still a little red in the face. “I really would be lost without her. Apparently I can’t multitask?” he said with a self-deprecating shrug and laugh, much to the amusement of the audience. He was about to continue that line of thought when something else seemed to occur to him, so he turned to the audience instead and asked, “Do you all know what a publicist does? I didn’t, for the longest time. They’re essentially your biggest cheerleader and advocate,” he explained, and to his left, Jimmy nodded.

“And yours, I’ve heard, can be terrifying,” Jimmy added.

“Don’t I know it?” Steve laughed. “Why do you think I’m wearing this suit?”

Jimmy laughed, then seemed to remember something curious. “I heard she was the one who recommended you after Killian, too, is that right?”

“Yeah, so—it’s all politics, right? For those of you who don’t know, that’s a big part of what publicists do: they make sure the right people are aware of you and what you can do. So, if one actor drops out for any reason, there’s this crisis team that forms to find a replacement, and it’s often your publicist who steps in and sings your praises to convince them to hire you. If they place her piece in the role, she might owe them a favor down the line. But she does all the talking, all the legwork - and, bonus: nothing is ever my fault now. If I want to say no to something, she does it for me. I never have to be the bad guy.”

“Right—unless you want to be,” Jimmy agreed.

Steve was poised to say something else when he heard what Jimmy said and got distracted. “Don’t tease me, Jimmy,” he scolded the host with a little pout. “It’s only been my dream since I was a kid.”

“No way,” Jimmy said with a skeptical side-eye, but when Steve only nodded in the affirmative, he cried, “But you’re the hero! Everyone wants to be the hero. They outsmart the bad guy, save the world, and they get the girl!”

“Yeah, and that’s fun—it’s great, I can’t deny that,” Steve assured him with a pleased grin, “but that gets pretty formulaic in the end, you know? My dream role was always ‘Bond villain.’ I don’t even have to be the main one,” he impulsively addressed to the camera, and to his left, Jimmy had to look away in a fit of giggling, “look, if anyone out there is listening: I don’t even need a speaking part. I’ll be the guy with the metal teeth, biting people’s shoes in half.”

“So what you’re telling me is that Odd Job was your dream role growing up?”

“Jaws,” Steve corrected without needing to think about it. “Odd Job had the hat; Austin Powers did him better though, remember that?” Steve said with a huge grin that was only barely restrained laughter. “They called the guy Random Task, and he’d throw his shoes at people?”

In a nasal attempt at Mike Myer’s ogre-like Scottish accent, Jimmy giggled as he recited, “‘Who throws a shoe? Honestly!’”

Steve giggled to himself, covering half his face with a big hand when he couldn’t keep his composure. “Gosh, those were fun movies. But yeah, no—a movie villain role, that was the dream,” he said and cleared his throat, returning to Jimmy’s question. “Something that would never be on TV, you know? That was a scary as a kid. Everyone was old, or had regular day jobs. The fun one ate cats. I didn’t want to do any of that.”

“But you wanted to bite people’s shoes in half,” Jimmy drawled in a skeptical monotone, and Steve dissolved into laughter again.

“That was the point of acting to me!” Steve tried to explain. “You got to be these extraordinary characters that did, or said crazy things I would otherwise never get to do. Why would I work my ass off to pretend to be a lawyer when I could work my ass off to _be_ a lawyer?”

“So you didn’t grow up wanting to date Kelly Kapowski?”

An involuntary shudder ran through Steve’s body. “And relive school? No, thank you, that was terrible enough the first time around.”

“But you’d be the cool kid! They’d write you as the cool kid,” Jimmy insisted.

“I’d be drawing from my experiences to make it happen, and back then, I was more Screech than Slater,” Steve told him wryly. “With my bad ankles and my chicken legs? And, gosh. My hair took off during puberty way before my height ever did,” he added with a morbid sort of laugh, shaking his head to himself at the memory. “Why am I even telling you this? I started going to the barbershop when I was 12 years old. Every day. On days when I couldn’t go, I’d either show up to school looking like a pimply werewolf, or with cuts all over my face.”

“Oh, man… that sounds rough,” Jimmy agreed with a wince of sympathy. “So you were never interested in TV?”

“I really wanted to be in, uh,” Steve tried to say with a straight face, but he was turning red and giggling despite his best efforts, and Jimmy’s grin started to take on a dangerous tint of mischief. “It’s—it’s not what you think!”

“Oh, I think it _definitely_ is what I think!” Jimmy laughed with delight.

“Not with that look, it isn’t—I, uh, so,” Steve tried to clear his throat and force away his blush. “I had a huge crush on April O’Neil in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles—she, she—you know she predates The Little Mermaid, right?”

“She does?”

“For a little Irish kid glued to the TV? Her character was huge. A beautiful, smart, red-headed Irish woman? And, man, she was so brave. I was in love. You never saw the Irish as good people back then. And, so, you know, I thought, if I could just _be_ a turtle… you know, it could work out…?”

Jimmy had rolled his chair back and was hiding his face in his hands by the time Steve finished explaining, and he was wheezing between his silent laughter and attempts to breathe.

“You,” he eventually whimpered, “wanted to be a—a turtle? To date April O’Neil?”

“Michaelangelo,” Steve clarified with a straight face and without missing a beat. “He was the best.”

***

Meanwhile, a handful of the writers had crowded around backstage with rapt attention in a rare show of overwhelming curiosity to observe the interview. Tony was the only one who couldn’t watch anymore; somewhere around Steve’s confession that he had to start visiting a barber at 12, Tony had turned his back on the stage so he couldn’t see any of it. It was hard enough not to run out and hug the man after hearing everything Steve said, he didn’t need the added challenge of watching his sweet, blushing face when he said it, too.

“I get it,” Wanda murmured, elbowing Tony in case he didn’t know she was talking to him. “Let me know if he’s available for a few rides in the spring?”

And just like that, Tony’s good mood turned sour and dark.

“I gotta get ready,” he told his friends before stalking off to make-up.

***

“I’m here with Steve Rogers,” Jimmy announced to the audience as they came back on the air. “He’s agreed to join us in a game of mystery and deception… it’s a game we call, True Confessions. But we’re going to need another player, and we have just the man for the job backstage; please welcome one of our writers on staff, and Steve Rogers’ good friend, Tony Stark!”

Obediently, the audience applauded and cheered as Tony walked out on stage to join Steve and Jimmy at the little pseudo-set. Steve valiantly tried to appear natural even as he joined Jimmy and the audience in welcoming Tony, but when Tony gave him a cheeky smile and a wink, he had to look away and pretend to rub at his nose before his blush became far too obvious.

“Thank you for joining us,” Jimmy said to Tony as the applause started to quiet down. He addressed the camera and the audience at home, explaining the game and its rules.

“So, once you read your confession the other two players have sixty seconds to interrogate you, and then they each have to guess whether your confession was a lie, or the truth. Steve, you’ll go first,” he added, then smiled at Tony to ask, “which envelope should he read?”

“Number two—no, number one!” Tony corrected in a rush. “Number one.”

Steve grinned to himself and gave Tony a sly look. He didn’t say anything, however, as he picked up the envelope numbered 1 and read off the card. With a straight face, he read:

“ _There are two bookshelves in my house dedicated to my unicorn collection._ ”

Tony sucked in his lips and bit down before he cackled on national TV, but Jimmy had his head on straight for once, and he got right to the questioning.

“Describe the bookshelves. How big are they?”

“Just, you know,” Steve said and held his hands apart in an approximation of three feet. “Not too big. Maybe three feet long, six inches deep?”

“Oh, so floating shelves?” Jimmy asked at the same time as Tony asked, “How tall?”

“Floating shelves,” Steve agreed in answer to them both. Then, with a pleased smile and satisfied shrug of his shoulders, he added, “I put them up myself.”

Tony rolled his eyes and tried not to smile too obviously. “Stop being cute, we’re on the clock. How many unicorns?”

“Oh, I’ve never counted,” Steve admitted, looking a little surprised by the question. “Maybe forty, forty-five? I’ve been getting them as birthday presents from close friends ever since my seventeenth birthday.”

Jimmy was stuck between giggling and trying to accept that he had heard the words he thought he had heard, so Tony asked, “Are they all the same unicorn? Are they glass figurines?”

“It’s all sorts of things, so long as there’s a unicorn on it,” Steve said, “almost always white body, with rainbow colored mane and tail. Some of them sparkle with glitter or glow in the dark; those always scare me in the dark if the street lights hit them just right.”

“I can’t,” Tony muttered with a straight face at the same time as Jimmy asked, “What started the collection?”

The buzzer interrupted Steve right as he was about to answer; he paused momentarily, then answered Jimmy with just two words: “Halloween mishap.”

“You _tease_ ,” Tony hissed through a grin in accusation, while Jimmy leaned forward and squinted at Steve, as if that would help him better read Steve’s poker face.

“You seem way too casual about this whole thing,” he decided, “I don’t know what man would be this calm about a _collection of unicorn figurines_ if it wasn’t true. I say true. What about you, Tony?”

“I don’t know,” Tony answered Jimmy without looking away from Steve. “Forty to forty-five figurines on two three foot shelves? They’d have to be really small, but that wouldn’t scare anyone in the dark.”

Steve sat back with the cup of coffee in front of him, clearly amused by their little discussion but determined not to say a word otherwise.

“Don’t!” Tony yelped at the same time as Jimmy cried, “Prop! That’s a prop!” Steve startled so unexpectedly that he nearly spilled whatever was in his cup all over his shirt. He sat it back on the table, far from himself, as Jimmy tried to explain how everything on the table was a prop through his laughter. Steve seemed far more concerned with his suit than whatever he had almost put in his mouth.

“It’s safe,” Tony told him after eyeing the dress shirt, “you’re good.”

“Yeah, it’s just Drano, you’ll be fine,” Jimmy agreed, then smoothly moved on. “Alright, so, Tony. What do you think? Truth, or lie?”

“I… I have to say lie,” Tony said after a beat, but the tone of his voice and the way he pursed his lips made it clear he wasn’t entirely convinced. “Just doesn’t seem plausible. I don’t think forty figurines could fit on two shelves of that size.”

Steve continued half-smiling pleasantly, and when they both seemed certain enough of their conclusions, he quietly asked Jimmy, “Can I say it now?”

“Yeah, was that a truth or a lie? Your unicorn collection,” he added, because he just had to.

“It… is true,” Steve confessed, and it looked like he might have had something else to say, except he didn’t get a chance to get another word out before Tony picked up the prop-cup of brown water and tossed it right in his face.

The audience howled, Jimmy nearly tripped out of his chair laughing, but somehow it was Tony, with his wide eyes and his bright red face, who looked most surprised of all.

Calmly, Steve sat back in his seat, adjusted his tie, then slowly scraped the brown water off his face.

“Well,” he said in an inexplicably calm, sensuous tone of voice. “I guess you’re going to meet Peggy sooner than you thought.”

“I, I—” Tony stammered uselessly, glancing at Jimmy looking for a lifeline. “A little help?”

“What were you—are you alright?” Jimmy managed through his giggles, still wiping tears off his face. “Are we good to go on, fellas?”

“I am,” Steve answered, so sweet and innocent that Tony’s blush only deepened. That kind of performance would only spell trouble for him later. “Especially if it is Tony’s turn.”

“No, I think it’s Jimmy’s turn,” Tony tried, but Jimmy was shaking his head with the most pleasant smile.

“I think it should be Tony’s turn, too. What card should he read, Steve?”

“He should read number two, Jimmy,” Steve drawled. “If that isn’t too revealing of my mood.”

Jimmy collapsed in a laughing heap at his corner of the table, but Tony wasn’t so easily tickled; he gave Steve a deadpan stare, pursed his lips, then went on with the show as if nothing had happened.

“ _On my first trip to LA, I was robbed in an alley at gunpoint._ ”

“What—when was this?” Steve asked with genuine concern, as if he had momentarily forgotten the objectives of the game.

“Seven years ago? I was twenty-two,” Tony answered readily, not having to think long at all about his story. “I had just graduated the month before, and I was out there looking for work.”

“What jobs were you applying to?” Jimmy asked, clearing his throat to shake the last tickle of laughter out of his voice.

“Everywhere, but Ellen was—that was what I wanted most.”

Steve couldn’t help beaming a little with vicarious pride; Tony had told him about his experience working with Ellen on their date. Clearly, if this turned out to be a true story, the ending hadn’t been so awful as to warrant a mention in any of their conversations thus far.

“What had you been doing immediately before the robbery?” he asked, genuinely curious.

“I had been drinking, in a bar—”

“What bar?” Jimmy pressed, getting a little into the interrogation of the game.

“The ONYX Rooftop bar, in Santa Monica,” Tony answered smoothly before going back to finish his earlier point. “I had my flight back to New York the next morning, and I thought I would walk the buzz off, since my hotel was only a few blocks away—”

“What day of the week was it?” Steve asked, then quickly added, “what time of night?”

“Thursday, 11 PM.”

Steve blinked at his answer. “Some guy pulls you into an alley to rob you in the middle of Santa Monica at 11pm and there were no witnesses?”

“Well, he didn’t… he didn’t come out of nowhere,” Tony said with a little shrug. “We left the bar together. I’m not quite sure how it happened, really, but I remember thinking he was looking to get into the industry like me, but he must have thought I was in a _different_ industry; he thought I was a sex worker,” he explained, and since Jimmy was too busy gaping in shock, and Steve was blubbering incoherent and aborted questions himself, Tony continued. “Long story short, he pulled me into the alley: I thought I was about to make some hot and heavy LA memories, but it turned out he just wanted me half-naked so I couldn’t run away when he demanded my ‘day’s earnings.’”

“No. Way!” Jimmy all but squeaked, hiding behind his hands so that only his eyes were peeking over his finger tips. “No _way!_ That can’t be real—”

Steve was still sitting in half-shock, but he managed to ask, “What—so what happened?”

“I tossed him my wallet,” Tony said like it was the most obvious answer, “he threw back my license, because I was ‘too hot to fuck around with the DMV,’ then he told me to run away.”

“That’s… that’s the most thoughtful mugging I’ve ever heard of,” Jimmy decided just as the buzzer rang, looking surprisingly impressed. He gave Steve a considering look. “What do you think? It’s… the detail, it’s so good if it’s a lie.”

“That was a hell of a lot of specifics,” Steve agreed, peering at Tony as he tried to decide if he thought it was a truth or a lie. “It could be true, but I feel like I would have heard this story before if it was.”

“I think it’s true,” Jimmy decided, “it’s just too good. There’s—the detail is too good.”

“But he’s a writer!” Steve had to point out. “He creates things for a living.”

“So you think it’s a lie?” Jimmy asked, while Tony sat quietly with the most neutral expression he could muster. Steve groaned a little in frustration.

“I find it hard to believe a student right out of school could afford a hotel in Santa Monica, but… I guess it’s not impossible. But everything else is just...” he finally had to shake his head and make a decision. “But I don’t know what your situation was either, and everything else sounds really plausible…. I don’t know, I’ll have to agree with Jimmy. True.”

“Should I be flattered?” Tony asked with the kind of self-satisfaction you’d expect in a victor. “It is a _lie_ , guys. But thanks for believing I’d pass for a sex worker that easily, I guess. I’m sure that won’t come back to haunt you, _Steve._ ”

***

A series of knocks on the open door to his office alerted Tony to someone’s presence. He quickly finished off the sentence he’d been working on and spun around in his chair to smile up at Steve. “I thought I might see you again.”

Steve hummed with feigned surprise, and rather than inviting himself into the room, he casually leaned into the door jamb. “A happy thought, or a total bummer?”

He had already changed out of his (stained) suit and into something more casual, but the way those jeans fit him, and the way his soft long sleeves casually stretched over the breadth of him, Tony couldn’t decide if he was pleased or disappointed himself.

“An accurate thought,” he replied with a smirk, still so pleased with himself for getting that lie over on Steve. “Come in here,” he purred then, and as Steve stepped into his office, Tony kicked the door shut behind him and reached to haul the alpha in by the belt loops of his jeans.

Steve grinned broadly to himself as he obediently followed Tony’s pull, and he bowed forward so he could nuzzle at Tony’s hair and buss his cheek adoringly.

“Easy there, tiger,” Tony warned him, and Steve straightened so he could take in Tony’s expression. Color was already rising in his cheeks, as if he was expecting Tony to push back. “Don’t give me that look, Rogers. Can’t have you thinking I’m too easy, can I?”

Steve couldn’t help but roll his eyes, but he was smiling too openly for the long-suffering expression to hit its mark. “Whether you are or are not is of no consequence, Tony,” he explained with a casual ease that Tony couldn’t quite follow at first. “Either way, you’re worth the effort.”

“Do they teach you that in drama school?” Tony wondered, swallowing back his emotions before they rose to the surface in a swell of uncontrollable desire. “Getting Into Pants 101?”

“No,” Steve drawled, albeit with a smirk. “A lesson from my mom, actually.”

“Damnit, Steve,” Tony complained with a small whimper. “How dare you act like this?”

“Like what, Tony?” Steve asked innocently, but before Tony could answer, he added, “I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I woke up this morning. Since I went to bed last night. May I kiss you, Tony?”

“Took you long enough to ask—” Tony tried as a playful complaint, but Steve gently cradled his chin in one hand and angled his face just so, so that he could lean in and silence him with a sweet, chaste, and lingering kiss.

“God, you smell amazing, Tony,” Steve whispered breathlessly against his lips, nuzzling at his cheek and jaw. Unable to pull away, he breathed in Tony’s scent deeply, sucking light kisses down the strong, vulnerable column of his throat. “Intoxicating, I can’t—you’re irresistible.”

Tony bit down on his lip to muffle the answering moans Steve was inspiring with the power of his mouth and his hands. But while Tony hugged Steve just a little bit closer, and dug his blunt nails into Steve’s shoulder just a little more insistently, he also squeezed his eyes shut just a little bit more desperately, holding back the truth from spilling into the cherished but fragile space between them.

“Keep talking, babe,” he purred breathlessly instead, “ _please_ , Steve, don’t stop.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Looks like we need a chapter 5 after all. I think y'all can guess where that's headed.


	5. Chapter 5

“Steve?” Bucky called into Steve’s apartment as he let himself in to search the place. “Steve, you home?”

“Kitchen,” Steve called back half-heartedly, but Bucky heard and made his way there quickly. 

“Man, answer your freaking phone,” Bucky growled, dragging Steve into a bruising hug. “You scared the shit out of me. Why’d you disappear after Fallon?”

Steve groaned at the tight squeeze and patted Bucky’s arm in a show of comfort, but even then he wasn’t holding his own weight, or even picking his head up. “God, I messed up, Buck. I couldn’t help myself.”

Bucky frowned and straightened at once. What Steve was insinuating sounded serious, but since there were no hateful headlines by TMZ or angry calls from Peggy, he was at a loss for what was happening.

“Steve… explain.”

“I couldn’t stop kissing him, Buck,” Steve groaned, too ashamed to open his eyes and face the world, let alone Bucky’s judgement. “I—I couldn’t take my mouth off of him, god. The way he smelled, the taste of his skin. I had no control over my body, and nothing else mattered in that moment except for the way he smelled. It was some out of body experience: I knew what I was doing, but I couldn’t make any decisions, and he just—damnit. Buck, he tasted so good, he smelled so good, it’s still in my head—”

“Stop,” Bucky interrupted him sternly to ask the only question that mattered. “Did you fuck him?”

“No! Thank god,” Steve muttered hoarsely, scrubbing at his face. “A colleague of his, Clint? He knocked on the door to say they were going out to dinner, and he invited me along. That’s when I got the hell out.”

Bucky frowned to himself, and he pursed his lips in thought as he struggled to prioritize his concerns. “Do… could it be artificial? That he’s trying to frame you?”

“No… no, I don’t think so,” Steve said after a moment, genuinely considering it before answering. He couldn’t imagine Tony as the type of omega who doused himself with artificial heat scents to get Steve to breed him for child support, but Steve was also new to the world of obscene paychecks. Unfortunately, this was only one of many real concerns for this twisted new life of his. 

“It felt real, Buck. I think he’s nearing heat.”

“And he didn’t think to warn you?”

Steve grimaced at the thought, then shrugged as he answered, “Maybe he didn’t think it was that serious? They don’t spend time with alphas outside of heat, maybe… maybe he doesn’t know we can tell if it’s weeks away?”

But Bucky was less than impressed. He folded his arms across his chest before he started punching things or shaking his friend, and all but shouted, “How many times are you going to use that same fucking excuse?” 

“He’s been texting me,” Steve said quietly, by way of an explanation. “He… he sounds sincere, Buck. What am I supposed to do?” he added, despairing, and finally he picked his head up to look Bucky in the eyes. “What do I tell him?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not… I don’t want to assume that, you know,” Steve floundered at first, shrugging and waving his hands more than he really managed to form complete sentences. “It’s big, it’s a big commitment, taking an omega through the full heat. We’ve only been on one date. What if it’s too soon?”

Finally, Bucky deigned to take a seat at the table beside Steve. “Are you saying you want him to find other alphas for his heat?”

“What if that’s what he has to do? I might not be enough, Buck,” Steve whispered uncomfortably. “If he’s not… I mean, it’s not the same, right? What an omega wants from a relationship doesn’t always get him ...you know.”

Bucky frowned to himself and gave Steve an unimpressed look. “What, you can’t say ‘slick’ now? When did you become such a prude?”

“It’s not—” Steve groaned in frustration in his own defense, glaring at Bucky for being so crass. “I care about him, Buck. It’s not right—it feels wrong to talk about him in terms of bodily functions.”

“But that’s what we’re talking about,” Bucky reminded him, if a little gentler than before. “You’re worried your attention won’t be enough to get him slick for your knot? I mean, you don’t have to have an open relationship if you don’t both want to, there are alternatives. Maybe you both go out, and you can step back to let the other alpha do your dirty work, _et voila._ You take him home, raring to go.”

“I can’t,” Steve replied without even having to think about it. There was no reason to think about it; the words alone made him want to gag and throttle someone at the same time. “I can’t step back and let all these other alpha shower him with gifts and affection and promises—probably, better promises than I could give, if he gets slick enough for them, but not for me. I couldn’t just watch that happen. Hell, I couldn’t stop myself kissing him when he’s nearing heat, what do you think I’ll do to the other alphas when he’s _in_ heat?”

“First of all, nobody said he wouldn’t or couldn’t be responsive to you,” Bucky said with a little less conviction than before, now that most of his attention seemed to be on Steve’s phone. It lay face down on the kitchen table between them still, like some highly charged, detached third party. While Steve was complaining about why Bucky couldn’t have just said responsive earlier instead of slick, Bucky picked the phone up to take a peek. 

The whole screen of the phone was overrun with a series of texts from Tony, all which had gone unopened and unanswered.

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:20 >**  
>  Steve, please. I can’t sleep. Call me?

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:12 >**  
>  You’re really worrying me Steve are you home? Are you ok?

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:07 >**  
>  Did someone say something offensive? Was it Wanda?

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:03 >**  
>  Please talk to me

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:02 >**  
>  Steve?

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:02 >**  
>  We shouldn’t have run with that, I’m really sorry

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 04:01 >**  
>  Steve, I’m so sorry

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 03:59 >**  
>  Of course they were invasive we talked about your childhood

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 03:58 >**  
>  Were the questions too invasive?

Bucky sat the phone back on the table, but this time he left it face up. 

“Steve… what were you thinking?” 

“Thinking! You think I was thinking? What—go on Bucky, you tell me: what can I tell him? If he hasn’t told me about his heat, he has his reasons—and whatever they are, it’s not his fault. I’m an adult, I—I suddenly can’t control my body? It’s not his prob—if anything, it’s my fault. God,” he groaned at the realization and folded, face-first, back into the table. “What a fucking cliche.”

“You know,” Bucky said after a few moments of silence passed. “I’ve told you before how little I appreciate being made a voice of reason. Between the two of us, you’re supposed to be the collected and mature one.”

“Fuck you,” Steve whined into the table, again not feeling up to picking his head up. The whole world was too much to face, anyway. “Fucking hell. I should’ve been an engineer,” he finally mumbled. “Married an omega with a city job, just like ma said. A quiet life in Queens, two kids—”

“Oh, my, _god_ ,” Bucky complained emphatically, doing his level best not to just walk out on this hot mess he called a friend in that same moment. “Let it never be said Steven Grant Rogers can’t throw a pity party for the ages. Can you hear yourself? So you lost your head—so what? All you did was confuse him, Steve. You didn’t hurt him; look,” he added, picking the phone up again to read some of the messages Steve was hiding from. “ _‘I’m so sorry,’ ‘Did someone say something hurtful?’, ‘Are you safe?’, ‘I can’t sleep, please call me.’_ Does that sound like a man you mindlessly savaged?”

Steve sat back finally and rubbed at his face, doing his level best to breathe and explain his panic. “Imagine I call him, Buck.”

“It’s difficult imagining you doing anything that mature right about now, but sure: I’ll try.”

“Hi, Tony, are you coming up on your heat? If that’s the case, you didn’t tell me, and I didn’t realize until it was too late, and I got scared when I realized I couldn’t control my behavior around you last night. Is there a reason you didn’t want to tell me?” he asked pointedly, continuing his theoretical conversation, “oh, I see. Sure, it probably is too soon to spend your heat together. Thanks for trying not to tell me so when you dumped me I at least wouldn’t feel impotent as well as worthless.” 

When Bucky didn’t answer,even with a groan of frustration for several seconds, Steve looked up to see what was happening. To his horror, Bucky was in the process of texting so fast on Steve’s phone that there was no guessing what he was up to.

> **YOU SENT @ 10:26 >**  
>  Tony, this is Bucky Barnes. I found Steve in his kitchen. He is safe but he's having a low day. Any chance you’re coming into your heat soon? He says something came over him last night after the show, and he lost control of what he was doing. It scared him. He doesn’t know what it was, but he’s kinda losing himself in a guilty void right now.

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 10:26 >**  
>  1\. Punch him for scaring me

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 10:27 >**  
>  2\. Did this happen with me or someone else? I don’t remember him losing control. 

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 10:27 >**  
>  3\. And yeah… my heat is in nine days. He could tell?

“What do they teach omegas in sex-ed?” Bucky muttered to himself, then showed Steve the phone just in time for another message to pop up. 

> **RECEIVED FROM SWEETHEART @ 10:27 >**  
>  Are you sure he’s okay?

“He didn’t know, Steve,” Bucky said quietly, and Steve took the phone from him to cradle it delicately in his hands. “Call him. Talk to him. Let him yell at you like you deserve, then figure out the plan. The last thing you want to do is improvise during the heat.” 

“Nine days,” Steve whispered to himself, stunned. “Christ, that’s so soon.”

“No: none of that shit, Steve. Call him right now,” Bucky growled, getting to his feet to loom over Steve as he said it. Steve, with his healthy streak of defiance, had enough sense to do exactly as he was told. 

Satisfied that the phone was ringing, Bucky stepped back and pointed in the direction of the front door. “Text me, later,” he said on his way out of Steve’s apartment. “Tell me what happened.”

*** 

“I’m so angry with you right now, I shouldn’t even answer your call.” 

“Tony, sweetheart, I am so sorry, I—”

Before Steve could continue his apology, Tony interrupted him with a low rumble of words. “Did I sound like I was finished?”

“...no?”

“Now say the first part of what you said again.”

“Tony, sweetheart, I am so sorry,” Steve obediently repeated, then immediately stopped his pacing to sit down. This was not fixing to be a conversation he could stand up through. 

“First you kiss me like nobody has ever kissed me before,” Tony all but shouted at him through the phone, “and then—then you _run away?_ You didn’t say anything; you didn’t even look at me. You just ran away?”

Steve may have been tempted to speak up in his own defense again, to speak up and offer a reason for what happened. He wanted to say he could have stopped if Tony had asked him to, if he had asked Steve to take it slow. But he couldn’t shake the memory of how good Tony had smelled or how good he had felt, so willing and generous with himself. 

Miserably, he knew an honest answer would not be that simple.

“All I needed was an ‘I’m okay, I’ll explain later,’” he heard Tony say through the haze of his own thoughts. “You can’t just disappear like that, Steve. If it’s a relationship you want, you have to stay and fight for it.”

“I do,” Steve replied so quickly he forgot to worry about whether Tony was finished speaking or not. 

“Do you?” Tony asked, half rhetorically, half with genuine uncertainty. “So why—what happened yesterday?”

“What I want is not half as important as what I don’t want, Tony,” Steve explained quietly, toeing at the edge of a rug in his living room for lack of anything else to take his anxiety out on. “I never want to hurt you, Tony—least of all physically hurt you. If I avoid that by possibly emotionally hurting you, I… I have to take that risk.”

“I’m not some defenseless, wilting flower, Steve,” Tony glowered, but Steve wouldn’t let him get further than that. 

“Sweetheart, if it was a fair fight, I’d never patronize you,” he promised. “It wasn’t that I didn’t think you could handle yourself, but yesterday, yes it was me, but I wasn’t calling the shots. Not really. And if I became a reason you felt fear, or pain… I couldn’t forgive myself, Tony.”

“Okay, calm down for a minute, champ,” Tony said when he seemed to have caught up to the conversation. “Steve, okay, before this goes on any longer, you need to know nothing you did yesterday was unwelcome, or unwanted. Do you believe me?”

“But how—”

“No, no buts. Say the magic words.”

Steve blinked at the request, feeling a little wrong-footed all of a sudden. “Please?”

“...no, Steve.”

“Tony, sweetheart, I am so sorry.”

“Okay, this isn’t working,” Tony decided with a sigh, and Steve had to put the phone down next to him on the couch before Tony heard his heart drop to his gut. Unaware of Steve’s sudden panic, Tony continued speaking over the phone, sounding only slightly more distant and tinny from the position of the phone. 

“Why don’t you pack a bag and come here for the night? Cook dinner with Pepper and me, and we can talk in person,” he said, and Steve scrambled to pick up the phone again. “I’m not doing anything on Saturday, but if you are, that’s okay. And before you say it’s unsafe, we’ve got Pinkerton security in the building, they can be at the door in minutes. Plus, Pepper would kick your ass if you did anything to hurt me.”

“You—are you sure, you want me to stay the night?” Steve whispered, barely believing his luck. A minute ago he thought he was being dumped. 

“I like you, Steve,” Tony told him, as if that answered Steve’s question. “I don’t feel unsafe with you. You’re not that kind of man, alpha or not. Heat or not.”

“Tony, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well,” Tony interrupted gently before Steve could add anything more self-deprecating. “Can you cook?”

“Uh. Depends? I can make a good baked mac and cheese,” he said, struggling to keep up with the change of topic. “Lasagna. Which is the quiche with the spinach?”

“Florentine?”

“I know how to make the other one,” Steve said with a shrug. “Quiche Lorraine. Oh, I guess I really like making enchiladas, too,” he added almost as an afterthought, now that he was starting to get a little hungry and remembering all the things he liked to eat. 

“We’re not big meat eaters in this house,” Tony said, and Steve could audibly hear the smile in his voice. “Is that alright?”

“The mac and cheese doesn’t have meat,” Steve replied, “and I prefer vegetarian lasagna. How do you feel about soy?”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had it in a lasagna,” Tony admitted, easily curious now. 

“Alright, well, clearly you must,” Steve decided, grinning with a fresh hope. “I’ll just have to pick up some things on my way. Text me the address, and any dietary things I’ll need to know about?”

“That’s easy: Pepper’s allergic to strawberries,” Tony said, too excited to realize Steve had asked for him to text it. 

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Steve replied with a warm smile. “Send me your address, and when to be there? I shouldn’t need more than two hours.”

“Already texted you the address, babe,” Tony said easily, “we’re not going anywhere. Come any time.”

*** 

It was Pepper who opened the door nearly two hours later, when Steve knocked boot against the door. 

“You hurt him,” she told him, matter of factly, and it was the absence of any anger or judgement in her expression that made Steve shuffle back. “I get why. I’m glad you didn’t want to do worse, I am. But hurt him again, and I’ll tell his other best friend how to find you. He has guns, and the Air Force. I wouldn’t recommend getting on his bad side. Are we clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good,” she finished with a smile, then stepped back to let Steve in. “Did I hear right, you’re making us dinner?”

“That’s the plan,” he agreed, and he followed her direction into the kitchen where he sat down his bags of groceries. “Soyrizo, cheese, and mushrooms.”

“That looks like a lot of ingredients for one lasagna,” Pepper commented curiously as Steve started to unload one bag after another. She picked up a peach, rubbed the fuzzy skin and inhaled its scent happily. “What else did you bring?”

“I wasn’t sure what you had lying around,” Steve admitted, putting the vanilla ice cream in the freezer while he remembered. He was looking around the kitchen thoughtfully, trying to come up with a plan of action in his head. 

“Well, Tony will be out in a minute,” Pepper said after finding a nice, ripe pear. “Is there anything I can do in the meantime?”

“Oh, yes,” he replied gratefully. “Where is everything?”

By the time Tony came out of his room, dressed but still scrubbing water out of his hair, Pepper and Steve had an easy rapport going in the kitchen. Steve was mixing the cheeses while Pepper was cutting the onions, and something was smelling really nice on the stove. 

“Is that garlic?” Tony wondered to the room at large as he walked up to Steve; Steve looked up with a shy excitement, and clearly tried not to seem too hopeful, but Tony smiled back warmly and leaned in to press a kiss to his shoulder. “I hope you know, I want to be kissed sometime today. This whole garlic thing better not throw a wrench in my night.”

“I like the smell of garlic,” Steve assured him quietly; then, a little more playfully, pointed out, “besides, if we both smell like garlic, who cares?”

“I like the way you think,” Tony replied with a quiet laugh, and he rested his cheek against Steve’s shoulder to look at the bowl of various cheeses he couldn’t make out. “And what’s that?”

“Ricotta, cottage cheese, mozzarella,” Steve explained, “it’s simple, but it won’t leave you hungry.”

“I’d like to see that,” Pepper chimed in with an innocent sing-song, and Tony immediately looked up to glower at her. She didn’t even have to turn her head to say, “Don’t give me that look, Tony. When was the last time you ate a real meal?”

“She’s lying and being over-dramatic, ignore her,” Tony told Steve in hushed tones, but Steve knew better than to get involved. He bent his head to the task of mixing up the cheese. 

“Why don’t you stir the onions, Tony?” he suggested, nodding at the pan of cubed onions happily simmering away. “If they’ve softened, add in the soyrizo?”

Tony hummed to himself as he peeked in on the onions. He wasn’t entirely useless in the kitchen, but it may have been a while since he gave thought to what softened onions looked like. After giving it a few stirs with the wooden spoon, he glanced at Pepper; she nodded back wordlessly in agreement, which was all he needed to add the soyrizo to the mix. 

It wasn’t long before the mushrooms went into a separate pan, and a quick tomato sauce Steve threw together completed the set. Tony and Pepper hung out with the stove in a group effort to watch the little pot and the three pans, while Steve started to get the counter space ready for assembly. All in all, the lasagna came together so easily, they couldn’t quite believe their eyes when Steve put the last layer of cheese across the top and popped the whole dish into the oven. 

Pepper put together a small plate of the fruit to carry out of the kitchen, letting Steve and Tony hang out around the island counter with relative privacy. 

“Can you tell, even now?” Tony asked in a lowered voice. “The heat, I mean.”

“I can, but it’s all easier to manage if I’m expecting it,” Steve promised.

Tony watched him curiously, taking a small, thoughtful bite of a pear wedge before asking, “How do you tell? What’s it like?” 

“Omegas have their own scent. A small number smell terrible in their heat; we’re told that means we’re incompatible, that the smell warns us against people we can’t have children with. I don’t know how true that is, but they smell so bad it becomes a non-issue.” 

Tony raised his brows in surprise, then naturally frowned as he wondered if he smelled that way to anyone. 

“I know that face,” Steve said with a smile, “and the answer is ‘most likely, yes.’ There’s a minority of incompatible omegas for every alpha, but every alpha has some.”

“So, are there omegas who smell particularly good?”

Steve hung his head a little at the question; he knew what would be a smooth answer, and what answer might get him into trouble. In the end, he distanced himself from the question by answering more generally. 

“I’ve never heard of anyone meeting such an omega, but we’re taught to believe they exist. Like a soulmate, I guess?” Steve said, though he shrugged to express a healthy level of skepticism. “Someone we were relatively more compatible with? But there’s two things I never understood about that—one, no-one ever explains what would happen if you meet this person and you can’t be together; and two, there is also the whole argument that bonded pairs develop a biology of their own. So if the omega becomes more exciting to the alpha over time… doesn’t that eventually become the same soulmate who smells better than everyone else?”

“I like that,” Tony said after considering Steve’s point. “That’s deep. They teach you that?”

“I mean, it’s part of the ‘don’t breed every omega you see’ spiel. We can smell and taste a nearing heat about two, maybe three weeks before the full heat, so if we weren’t taught that, we’d probably mistake every omega for our soulmate.”

Tony’s expression twisted in a grimace, and he couldn’t meet Steve’s eyes when he admitted, “All they teach us is how to avoid pregnancy. How to be safe with date rape drugs, with alcohol, with groups of strangers. Red flags to watch out for when alphas proposition us during heats.”

“Really?” Steve perked up curiously, “what red flags?” 

“I can’t tell _you_ ,” Tony scoffed, giving him a crazy look. “Next thing I know, our secrets are out to the alphas, and then who would protect my omega brothers and sisters from useless alphas?”

“First of all,” Steve tried to say with a straight face, “I can keep a damn secret. And second, there’s some useless omegas out there, too, you know. I’ve had plenty of dead fish—even ones in heat!”

“Dead fish in heat?” Tony drawled, palpably incredulous. “No. There’s no way.”

“Look, that’s what I thought, until it happened to me,” Steve insisted, but this time he couldn’t keep the lilt of laughter out of his voice. “It was awful. I haven’t looked at a model since.”

Tony could only roll his eyes, since he would likely laugh if he opened his mouth to make a comment. Instead he stole the slice of pear Steve had clearly been reaching for, chewed it obnoxiously, then finally asked, “So you’ve been with many omegas in heat, have you?”

Steve opened his mouth to speak, but without realizing, he seemed to be at a loss for words. He cleared his throat then, thought about Tony’s question a little more carefully, then said, “I’ve been with strangers who were in heat, yes. For a night. Never someone I’ve wanted a relationship with, or even two consecutive nights.”

Whatever he said must have resonated with Tony, who easily nodded in response. “I’ve been with the same alpha for a full heat twice before, but usually I… well, the tradition is to go out every night and pick up a different alpha; a better alpha.”

Steve rubbed at his nose as a blush rose across his cheeks, a poor habit trying to conceal it. “What, uh. What makes an alpha better?”

“Well, no-one’s made me a lasagna before,” Tony whispered in a sing-song, but when Steve only gave him a flat look, his playful smirk turned into a genuine smile. 

“You can almost feel some alphas—most alphas—stop caring, as soon as the knot sets,” Tony said then. “You wake up the next morning and you’re lucky to get a text goodbye. Greener pastures.”

Steve winced quietly at the thought, but he didn’t say anything. He glanced down at the plate of fruit between them, and nudged it over in Tony’s direction in a quiet gesture for him to finish the last of the peach. 

“I’m not just here for a one-night stand,” Steve told him after a brief silence. “I can’t promise I’ll know what to do when the time comes; I’ve never been with an omega through a full heat, so I’m not sure I’ll… you know, _know_. But I can at least promise I’ll try, and that I’ll be there the next morning, as happy to see you as the day before.”

Tony smiled up at him, looking for all the world that his only struggle was not to burst with happiness. “It’s a little unfair, don’t you think?” Tony asked rhetorically. “For someone who hasn’t been through any heats from start to finish, you seem to have everything we want already figured out.”

*** 

They made it through two John Carpenter and Kurt Russell collaborations before they all bowed out for the night. 

“You sure it’s not too soon, Tony?” Steve breathed into the space between one kiss and the next, “I don’t—if you’re not—”

“Damnit, Steve,” Tony growled and all but shoved Steve back against his bed. He stumbled backwards and clumsily sat on the mattress like a stack of bricks. Tony sauntered after him, smirking at the handsome picture his baffled alpha made, and he leaned after him to bite one more lingering, needful kiss from Steve’s soft, willing lips. 

“Baby, if you’re going to be this difficult, I might just tie you down tonight,” Tony murmured playfully as Steve chased his kisses. Rather than any sign of alarm or slight to his pride, however, a guttural groan escaped the alpha, and Steve blinked dark eyes open to stare up at Tony like a starving man. 

“What if I said I’d like you to?” 

“Then, I’d say, get undressed,” Tony replied, trying not to let the thrill of surprise show in his expression. “Then lie back on the bed, spread eagle. If you’re in that position when I come back, I’ll know your choice.”

With that, Tony stole one last indulgent kiss before stepping back, leaving Steve in his room briefly to make a necessary pitstop in the bathroom. He had a personal stash of warming lube in his room, but that was more appropriate for solo play. They kept the big tube in the bathroom, and as promised, Pepper had refilled their stock of condoms, too, including a fancy variety pack of alpha grade condoms just for Tony. 

He cracked open the box and dug around for something appropriate—flavored and glow in the dark condoms didn’t feel right for a first time, but the ribbed one gave him pause. Steve was the son of Irish immigrants. There was a chance, however slight, that he had inherited the Celtic knot, and if that was the case, there was no way Tony would want to obscure any of the novelty with dumb, artificial textures. He shoved the ribbed condom back into the box and pulled out two ultra thins with added lube instead. 

The sight of Steve, naked, spread out like a gift on his bed, with his hands and feet pointed to each corner of the bed took Tony back when he finally returned to his room. Already his half-hard cock was imposing, thick against his thigh and flushed dark. Tony could make out the early tell-tale shape of his knot, an impressive girth that betas and omegas alike would be jealous of. 

Tony padded to his dresser in a show of calm he did not feel. As obedient as he had promised to be, Steve maintained the position Tony had asked of him, but he never looked away from the omega as he moved across the room, not when he dug around in the dresser, not when he pulled out a red silk tie, and not when he returned to the bed to slowly, methodically, lift Steve’s wrists together over his head and tie them up against the iron rails of the headboard. 

Once he was done, Steve obligingly gave the tie a tug or two to test them out. The tie didn’t offer any give, or risk slipping undone; he bit his lip then, valiantly trying to hide the thrill burning through his body. 

“My safeword is lamp,” he said before Tony had to ask. 

Tony bit his lip, trying desperately not to snicker. “You love lamp?”

“I do, I love lamp,” Steve replied, and it was his deadpan delivery that had Tony unravel in a short fit of giggles. 

“Well, if you see the light at the end of the tunnel,” he whispered in a playful sing-song, “wait for me?”

“I’ll do my best,” Steve promised, and accepted the tender kiss Tony offered in gratitude. 

Left with the task of undressing himself, Tony wasted no time shedding every layer and dumping it over an armchair within reach. With less haste, he lay the condoms on the bedside table, and took the lube with him as he climbed into bed, kneeling beside Steve’s strong, solid body to drink in the sight of him as he wished. 

Tonight, this was his body to touch, his body to tease. He drew one finger down the smooth skin of Steve’s neck, down to where the neat, orderly grooming gave way to the first signs of Steve’s chest hair. 

“Why would they wax all this off for the movie?” Tony mused ruefully, drawing blunt fingernails across the trim hair covering his pecs. 

Steve hissed under his breath and tried not to squirm under Tony’s touch, and he cleared his throat unevenly before saying, “Historical accuracy, I think. Body hair wasn’t invented yet in, uh—the 1400s.” 

“Then I was born into the right century after all,” Tony said with a soft sigh, as if he was imparting a secret, and continued leisurely tracing the clear and unbroken path of hair down over the firm ridges of Steve’s abdomen and the unmistakable Adonis belt down to the thick base of his hard cock. 

“Damn, Steve,” Tony murmured a little breathlessly as he shifted down to settle on the mattress between Steve’s legs, rubbing at the softer skin of his inner thighs absently in an effort not to zero in on his straining erection immediately. But that didn’t mean he could stop himself from staring. “I really thought tonight was going to be my surprise for you, but this… I couldn’t even imagine this.”

Steve blinked down at him, visibly trying to clear out the haze of lust to make sense of what Tony might be alluding to. “Huh? I don’t und—” 

Tony smirked at him, playful in his mischief, then with a gentle, anchoring hand on Steve’s waist, he leaned forward into a better position, the kind of position Steve could get behind in a heartbeat if he wasn’t tied up, and then reached back to slowly, patiently ease a small plug out of his ass. 

Steve’s already hard cock twitched with interest, and from somewhere deep in the gutters of his fantasies, Steve groaned, dark and hungry. 

“You like that, do you?” Tony said with a broad, self-satisfied grin. He dropped the plug somewhere over the bedspread and bent down between Steve’s thighs so his ass was still up in the air, presented away from Steve, but so he could finally lick up the taste of the plentiful precum leaking from the head of Steve’s cock. 

“Ton— _Tony_ ,” Steve grunted, fighting his own instincts to keep his hips still on the mattress. But Tony didn’t take his mouth off Steve’s cock for something so simple, and he only hummed around his mouthful of the budding knot to acknowledge him. 

“If you don’t cool it,” Steve muttered breathlessly, “you—well,” he whispered, clearing his throat. “Uh, surprise?”

None of what Steve had said made sense, and while part of Tony was proud to render an alpha incoherent, he had a nagging suspicion that it was he who had missed a step in the exchange. With a last swallow, he reluctantly lifted his head from Steve’s cock to ask what he meant. 

Except, the answer was right in front of his eyes. 

Unmistakable, delicate lines on Steve’s cock, no bigger than regular veins, swelled up into prominent, thick ridges. They emerged from the base of Steve’s knot in sloping angles and interlacing circles, firm as cartilage under the silky skin of the alpha’s cock. The pattern was easier to see nearer the knot itself, where the simple, yet beautiful lines became more intricate and telling of its namesake. 

“Holy shit,” Tony blurted breathlessly, and, too curious for his own good, he pressed his palms down against Steve’s thighs, pushing them further apart and his hips pinned down so Tony wouldn’t miss a second of the forming Celtic knot. He had never seen one in person before, and honestly, he never thought he’d have the chance, so he couldn’t stop staring now, couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch the central design over Steve’s knot, tracing the lines with his finger before finally closing his hand around the shaft to slowly stroke his full length, marveling at how much of the detail he could actually feel under his palm. 

“It’s beautiful,” Tony whispered, and Steve groaned helplessly, struggling now to keep his hips obediently still for what had become Tony’s private viewing. “Fuck, Steve… I can’t believe this. I’ve never even—I mean, maybe in a dream once,” he was rambling helplessly, mesmerized. 

“You’re staring,” Steve grunted, trying to sound stubborn even as his breath caught in his chest with every deliberate flick of Tony’s wrist. “Ton—oh, _god—_ ”

“And you don’t seem to mind it,” Tony noted with a little smirk, bowing his head to swallow the head of Steve’s cock into his mouth, sucking delicately until he felt Steve’s hips twitching from the effort to stay firmly on the mattress. When it was almost too much, Tony backed off and sat back, pushing Steve’s thighs further apart so that he could continue to indulge in the presentation, the display of all of Steve’s power laid out so vulnerable and desperate. 

“Exhibition kink much?” Tony teased, and Steve couldn’t help a breathless laugh. 

“I’ve got many kinks, sweetheart,” he said, his voice deep and hoarse. “But that’s not one of them.” 

Tony swallowed reflexively in response to the seductive edge in Steve’s voice, and he stalled for time by humming quietly to himself. “Objectification, then?” he mused, but before Steve could answer, he got up on his hands and knees to lean over Steve’s body, and tenderly kissed him silent. “No, don’t tell me: I’ll learn them myself,” he decided, an unspoken promise that this night was not all he wanted from Steve. With another kiss, he reached for one of the condoms on the bedside table before sitting back between Steve’s thighs. He wasted no time tearing the foil open and stretching the condom down over Steve’s hard cock until it anchored, snug and safe, under the knot for added protection. 

“I’ve got you,” Tony whispered, pressing a soft kiss to Steve’s hip before climbing up and moving up Steve’s body until he could straddle his hips. 

“Go slow,” Steve said under his breath. His hips jerked up of their own desperate volition when Tony wrapped his hand around the shaft again, reaching back with a healthy coating of lube over his palm to slick him up since his own body was not able to do it yet. 

“Yeah, baby, we’ll go slow, I’ve got you,” he promised, even more quietly than before. Then, without turning away or taking his eyes from Steve’s face, Tony lined them up and eased himself down onto Steve’s cock, carefully but steadily. 

After the first two, three inches, Tony paused and bowed his head to kiss the alpha in a lazy, luxurious slide of wet lips and tongues, greedily swallowing every whimper and prayer that escaped Steve. Eventually, he leaned back again, and this time, with both hands on Steve’s chest and abdomen for balance, Tony pushed himself down more urgently, growing increasingly impatient to satisfy the emptiness in his body. 

One after another, the firm ridges adorning Steve’s cock coaxed breathless gasps and heady moans from Tony, and he found himself pausing and pulling back to fuck himself when a particularly satisfying and prominent twist in the pattern grazed his spot. He dug his fingers into the meaty muscles of Steve’s chest and torso and threw his head back with overwhelming desire, cursing breathlessly as he felt the first heavy, intoxicating signs of his orgasm settling in. 

Unable to resist his instincts anymore, Steve dug his heels into the mattress and thrust up to meet the downward grind of Tony’s hips. Tony was thrown forward with a cry, barely managing to latch onto Steve’s body again for balance, and as Steve fucked up into him, it was all Tony could do push back and babble incoherent, breathless praise and gratitude into Steve’s neck. 

“Tony? Sweetheart,” Steve whispered into Tony’s hair, his voice strained with effort. “I want you to reach back and spread yourself, can you do that for me? Hard as you can.” 

Unbalanced and so close to release, Tony mindlessly murmured _yes, alpha_ and did exactly as he was told. With his full weight braced against Steve’s body and his face buried in the crook of Steve’s neck, Tony widened his stance and reached back with both hands to spread his ass, stretching his fucked out hole to the point of pain and holding it for his alpha. 

In two, three bruising thrusts, the knot finally breached Tony’s body. It caught at its thickest point and Tony threw his head back as he came with a choked-off scream. His body twitched and clenched in euphoria, and Steve thrust a last time to finally force the knot in, coming hard as the knot was full seated inside Tony’s body. 

Tony gurgled haplessly with full body jolts as every breath and minor change in their positions shifted the knot so that it rubbed against his spot. By itself, the continued pleasure of a knot was not unexpected—in fact, it was one of the many benefits of taking an alpha to bed. But with other alphas, the pleasure of a knot meant that Tony could luxuriate in a post-coital haze between sleep and consciousness, one which stretched out the euphoria of his orgasm for several minutes by gently massaging his prostate until the knot softened and slipped out. 

For all that porn and adult literature bent over at the altar of the Celtic knot, Tony had not expected how the intricate, raised ridges and twisting nodes would affect his treasured post-coital rest. 

With Steve, there was nothing _post_ about post-coital satisfaction. Instead of a smooth, gentle massage, the prominent the grain of his knot continued to tease his prostate. 

“Uh, sweetheart? Tony?” Steve whispered softly, pressing a soft kiss to Tony’s hair to get his attention. “Could you untie me?”

Tony tried to blink off the heady haze of orgasm and the continued, insistent stimulation to understand what he said, but when Steve gave a little flap of his arms, Tony finally caught on. Carefully, he eased his knees apart on either side of Steve’s body and slowly, while trying to ignore the way Steve’s obscene Celtic knot was tickling his most sensitive spot, push up on wobbly knees to reach Steve’s hands and release him. 

“Jesus— _fuck_ , Steve,” he groaned when it was becoming too much, and even now when he barely had the energy to keep his eyes open anymore, his cock was filling again, growing thick between their bodies. He tugged on one end of the tie with drowsy determination, and eventually it came undone so Steve could let his arms drape around Tony’s body at last. 

“God… I can’t believe this,” Tony muttered, clutching at Steve’s arms and shoulders blindly as he gingerly rolled his hips, riding out the gentle but inevitable wave of pleasure rising in deep in his body, slowly building up behind his interested cock. 

“Easy, Tony,” Steve whispered softly, and he brought his hands down to frame Tony’s hips, helping steady him as he rolled and stuttered his hips around, indulging in the intricate knot holding him in place. As Tony slowly built up to a lazy rhythm, Steve dared to release his hips, and instead he swept both hands up Tony’s arched back to bring him closer. With one hand behind his back, and the other cupping the back of Tony’s head, Steve drew him in close to taste his skin, to tease his nipples with his teeth and his lips, to bite down and graze his teeth over exposed, tan flesh until a possessive, dark bruise bloomed over Tony’s collarbone. It was all Tony could do to hold on. With his back arched and both hands wildly clutching at Steve’s hair, Tony rolled his hips desperately in tight circles until the orgasm was all but punched out of him, leaving him breathless and dazed. 

Steve caught him in both arms when Tony lost consciousness with his second orgasm, cradling his body with tender care against his chest. He kissed Tony’s hair and nuzzled at his temple, murmuring soft words of praise and affection while Tony slept. Several long minutes passed before his knot finally gave in, and soon thereafter Steve was able to pull out to let Tony sleep in peace. 

He did his best to clean up one-handed, but in the end it wasn’t worth the loss of not touching Tony even for a brief minute. Slowly, and with great patience, he pulled the blankets down and got under them with Tony still sleeping against his chest. He turned them on their side and hugged his omega from behind, unwilling to let him go even in his sleep. 

“Never thought anyone could smell this good until I met you, Tony,” he murmured his quiet confession against the back of Tony’s neck, nuzzling at the soft skin affectionately as he settled in to sleep himself. “Good night, beloved.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If you ever feel like a Stony chat, [I'm on Tumblr (as shetlandowl)](http://shetlandowl.tumblr.com/) more often than I should be.


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